


The Cookies

by heavenorspace, twobirdsonesong



Series: A Boy and His Wolf [9]
Category: Sterek - Fandom, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: A Boy and His Wolf, Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Art, Cover Art, Developing Relationship, Drabble, Fluff, Gen, Grocery Store, M/M, Mother-Son Relationship, Time Skips, Wolf Derek, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2014-05-05
Packaged: 2018-01-21 23:54:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1568498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavenorspace/pseuds/heavenorspace, https://archiveofourown.org/users/twobirdsonesong/pseuds/twobirdsonesong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>8-year-old Derek runs into Stiles at the grocery store.</p><p>(Honestly we just wanted Stiles in a wolf hoodie.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cookies

**Author's Note:**

> A Boy and His Wolf is a collaborative project between [heavenorspace](http://archiveofourown.org/users/heavenorspace/pseuds/heavenorspace) and myself.
> 
> It will be a series of vignettes, out of chronological order, set in a world where Derek, in the form of a wolf, first encountered Stiles when he was a toddler playing in the woods. Derek is under strict pack orders not to reveal himself as werewolf to the human boy and must only interact with him as a wolf. When Stiles is a child, their relationship is strictly platonic and protective in nature. As Stiles grows older that begins to change.
> 
> Each drabble will be accompanied by a piece of art drawn by heavenorspace.

(art by heavenorspace)

 

Derek catches his scent on aisle 9, just beyond the brightly colored boxes of crackers and the jars of peanut butter and jelly. It’s soap and apple juice and warm, familiar skin and it pulls him up short, makes him stop and turn around.

 

The little boy is standing at the end of the aisle, gazing up at the packages of cookies with huge, wanting eyes. And Derek _knows_ him.  He’s the little boy from the woods, the one who was lost among the trees and the one Derek found. The one who wasn’t afraid of him even though he was a wolf with claws and teeth and shaggy fur. He’s the boy whose scent Derek gets hints of around town from time to time, at the playground along the rusted metal of the monkey bars, in the doorway of the ice cream shop, lingering around the corner of the sheriff’s station, and every time it makes his wolf rumble happily in his chest.

 

“Derek,” his mother’s voice tugs at him, a soft command, but the sound seems to come from far away and Derek is already walking down the aisle towards the boy.

  
Stiles must hear him, or sense him, because he turns and Derek snorts. Stiles is wearing a soft looking onesie with a hoodie over it, which has a pair perfectly shaped wolf-ears perched on top.  Derek presses his lips together to stop from smiling too brightly at the outfit, even if the sight of Stiles dressing like a wolf does something funny to his stomach. He hopes his eyes aren’t flickering gold.

 

“Hi,” Stiles greets, shyly.  The sleeves of his hoodie are overly long and he has the hems curled in his little fists.  He’s still small, but Derek can tell he’s going to grow up tall, maybe even taller than him.

 

“Hi.”

 

Stiles’ big amber eyes flicker from Derek back up to the shelves of snacks.  “You’re tall,” he says with the kind of matter-of-factness that only little kids can get away with.  “Can you reach?”

 

Derek can and he’s taking a step towards the shelf before he knows it.  He’s sure Stiles isn’t supposed to talk to strangers, let alone ask them for help getting treats he’s undoubtedly not supposed to have, but Derek isn’t a stranger, not really, even if Stiles doesn’t know it.

 

Derek is stretching up for a package of cookies when a tall, willowy woman suddenly comes around the corner and Derek can smell her exasperation underneath her light and lovely perfume.

 

“Stiles,” she sighs.  “You _have_ to stop walking away from me.”  She says it like it’s a common occurrence as she snatches up Stiles’ hand and holds on tightly to it. Derek thinks about how the first time they met Stiles was deep in the woods having clearly wandered away from his mother and Derek is sure it does happen all the time.

 

“But, cookies,” Stiles protests, pointing up at the shelves rising high above him and Derek watches as Claudia can’t help but smile down at him.  He's sure Stiles gets away with a lot because of those eyes.

 

“Do little boys who walk away from their mothers get cookies as a reward?”  Claudia asks in a perfect _mother_ tone and Stiles’ face collapses into absolute sadness.

 

“No,” he responds, with pitiful weariness, and Derek wants to give him everything he’s ever wanted.

 

Claudia looks up from her son and her eyes land on Derek.  “Well hello there,” she says and Derek feels caught by her bright, inquisitive gaze.

 

“Uhm, hi.”  He should say more, should introduce himself, but Stiles and Claudia are staring at him and he doesn’t know what to do.

 

Derek senses his own mother approaching before he feels her warm hand settling against the back of his neck.  “Derek?” Talia questions and he knows that she recognizes Stiles’ scent too, from the town and from him.  “Mrs. Stilinski, hi.  Of course we run into each other in the cookie aisle.  Boys, you know?”

 

“Mrs. Hale,” Claudia responds, smiling warmly, and her voice is infinitely kind.  “It’s lovely to see you again.”

 

Derek catches his mom noticing the fuzzy wolf ears on Stiles’ hoodie and she smirks, just a little.

 

“That’s cute the outfit little Stiles is wearing,” Talia compliments.

 

Claudia rolls her eyes and laughs as she tweaks one of the soft-looking ears sticking out from the top of Stiles’ head. “He saw this thing at the store and just _had_ to have it. And now I haven’t been able to get him out of it.  He’s been wearing it for three days straight.  I’m just waiting for him to start howling at the moon.”

 

“Well, it’s adorable.  I’d _never_ be able to get Derek to wear something like that.” Talia ruffles Derek’s hair as she says it and Derek wrinkles his nose.

 

When Derek looks back at Stiles, he’s chewing on the end of the drawstring of his hoodie and looking a little nervous. Derek knows how intimidating his mother can be, alpha that she is, even when she’s not trying to be, and he wants to take Stiles’ hand in his own.

 

“Your Derek is always so well-behaved,” Claudia points out. “I’ve got my hands full with the one, not sure how you handle _three_.”

 

“It’s a group effort,” Talia responds, smiling.

 

 _Pack_ , Derek thinks, but he knows he’s not supposed to say out in public.

 

But Stiles is standing there, so close, with his red-splotched cheeks and his big doe eyes, and remembers how easily the boy trusted the wolf.  Effortlessly.  Between the space of a heartbeat.  He wants Stiles as pack too.

 

“We really should get going,” Claudia is suddenly saying, though she doesn’t sound like she really wants to go.  “We’ve got ice cream melting in the cart.”

 

“Of course,” Talia agrees and Derek wonders how long they were talking over his head while he stared at Stiles.  “Well, it was nice running into you both.”

 

“It was.  Say goodbye to Derek and Mrs. Hale, Stiles.”

 

Stiles looks up at his mom and over then at Talia before bringing his gaze back to Derek.  “Bye,” he whispers around the end of the drawstring still in his mouth and Derek doesn’t want him to go.

 

“Bye.”

 

Claudia tugs Stiles along with their shopping cart and a final smile and Derek watches them walk away – the kind-hearted woman and the funny little boy with rosy cheeks who smells like home.

 

Before he can stop himself, he snatches a box of cookies off the shelf – the one Stiles was staring at the longest – and darts up the aisle to drop the box in the Stilinski’s cart next to the bag of apples, loaves of bread, and the ice cream.  He’s there and back before anyone but his mom notices.  She just shakes her head and smiles ruefully down at him before grabbing the back of his neck in a gentle grip and shaking him playfully.

 

“Oh, Derek.”

 

“I think they’re his favorite,” he says. At least he hopes so.

 

“Yes,” his mom agrees, somewhat wistfully. “I rather think they are.”


End file.
